


The Garrisons of Heaven

by Myzic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Heaven, Multi, Worldbuilding, a bit - Freeform, ever wonder what they’re doing up there, i changed canon, well this is that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myzic/pseuds/Myzic
Summary: Each was different, most formed white wings with additional features. Mouths, maws, fingers, elongated spines, bony legs that ended in multiple curled appendages. Each one a paragon of a different beauty.The angels of heaven experience life and ‘feeling?’





	1. Chapter 1

First there was Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. Archangels, fierce warriors of heaven to light the way of the lower rankings of angels. When they were created, it is said God’s light shone so brightly as to create the sun of the leftover grace they gave off.

At least, that’s what Gazardiel was told. He came afterward. When his father created him, he was told,  
“You shall the one of beginnings, Gazardiel.” He accepted his title, and was at peace with it. Mostly. He watched as the others gained tasks, things that stretched beyond having titles of embodiment, that required things for them to do, to protect. In centuries of simply obeying orders and following his task, he wondered. They weren’t supposed to, but these new creations his father had made were wondrous things. They were born, they lived, they died, and they loved. It was spectacular to watch and see.

His brothers and sisters did not think so, they sneered down at the humans their father told them to love, hating them for what they perceived to be pigs rolling around on the dirt below. Gazardiel looked, and saw beauty. As it was, they were so much more than any of his brethren, always making and feeling. They accomplished more than the angels could ever hope to in that they were made from the relationships they built. Something that none of them had yet to do.  
  
He once spent a handful of decades simply watching over a small male human grow into adulthood from the moment he was a child.

“Gaazardiel, do you not have your duties to attend to?” There was Zachariah, watcher of all the lower ranked foot angels. The garrisons were made of angels that no longer fulfilled their purposes, angels of sunlight, dust, storm, wrath, and forgiveness. When each had originally been given their purpose, their father directed them through the Archangels, each angel looking over the humans, whatever aspect of life that they represented. As of late though, the angels that their father were making seemed odd; having little more purpose than foot soldiers.  
“I will be there, as I always am,” He replied, a flap of his wings lifting him from where he had perched to see the humans below.

“Do not grow complacent, brother,” Zachariah’s voice was high, and it reverberated around Gazardiel. He disliked it. It sounded nasal and unpleasant. It was suitable, however, for Zachariah’s true form, something slick with an unearthly grey colouring his elongated fingers and tipped each feather on his wings. A maw instead of a mouth created the many layers of enochian needed to speak the language. He rather preferred his own form and its childlike state, a roundness to his head and cheeks that resembled the humans. Instead of a maw, his mouth had multiple ridges to create layered sounds.

“There is nothing more important than to fulfill the wishes of our father.” A reminder to listen, to be obedient. Their father didn’t seem to be around much. Perhaps, he had left? Abandoned them to the Archangels and Zachariah. Ah, but such thoughts were bordering on blasphemy, and best not entertained.

He flew with Zachariah to the Provenance. It was his duty, a task that came with his title, to oversee the creation of the angels that would join the garrisons of heaven. Each began with a light, a flare of grace unique to that single angel, much like their appearances. Gazardiel watched from above the Provenance, looking down the ever high arches to the circular floor containing stars of grace. It was peculiar. One of them flared a little brighter than the rest. How beauteous. It’s tendrils curled inwards like a the clouds that reached across earth’s sky.

It was his job to dim these lights, to lessen their shine and make them a little less.. individual. He was to make their obedience to heaven an absolute this way. Gazardiel glanced at Zachariah, whose multiple eyes were glazed with annoyance and distraction. No doubt he thought himself above such things. So, he ignores the particularly bright star of grace and allowed the fledgling angels to form the beings that would carry them across heaven.

Each was different, most formed white wings with additional features. Mouths, maws, fingers, elongated spines, bony legs that ended in multiple curled appendages. Each one a paragon of a different beauty.

There. That one. That was the one who held the billowing grace inside his container. The fledgling’s form was remarkable. They could almost pass for human with their rounded head, soft cheeks, four limbs, and two eyes. They opened them and out peered two brilliant blue rays.

“I am Castiel, of the fourth day,” he proclaimed, the first of this flock. His voice rang out, deep and rough like the surface of the planet they watched. Gazardiel smiled at him from above. This felt like a beginning.


	2. Soabiel Likes to Go Fast

They didn’t have a fancy title. They weren’t created with a special purpose in mind like their innumerable amount of siblings. Soabiel followed orders, listened to that jack-feathered daddy’s boy Michael and completed missions to a ‘Tee.’ The humans were interesting enough, but still so rudimentary, and slow. 

Honestly, what was the point of all these missions? Was there a grand plan in mind for the development of humans and them making a… whatever that hunk of metal exhaust was?

Soabiel watched as the middle-aged man placed a glass covering over the metal frames’ eyes? Maybe? They were large, bulbous, and clear, much like bug eyes. He wiped his hands on the blue suspenders, rubbing what the humans called ‘oil’ in a smear that was unlikely to come off.

Like they said- slow. What kind of species used ancient reptilian remains as energy? Creatures like those were long since dead and it wasn’t like there were a fresh plague of them to let loose on the earth. Although, a non-renewable energy source would be the least of their problems if that were to happen.

Apparently finished, the designer looked over his creation with what seemed to be pride. 

Soabiel eyed him lazily, a single brown human eye trained on him while the other slept with that side of their brain. Force them into a sack of skin all you wanted, the animalistic side was going to follow. Most of their kin were more avian, but Soabiel was fine with that. They couldn’t send half of their brain to sleep when they were bored.

The balding man rubbed his callused left hand over his right fist. Soabiel’s eyebrow raised imperiously at him as ‘Henry’ climbed inside, (funny human names) starting up the boxy looking scrap metal; admittedly, it was very shiny scrap metal. 

He was not supposed to be doing that. Although Henry Ford was one of those who had designed the Ford Model T, he was not the one who had built this prototype of it. It was to be the first in a long line of them and definitely not used to be speeding out of the garage the way Henry now was.

Soabiel took flight, the unconscious part of their brain waking, and they took flight. Their human They soared out of the plane of existence decipherable to human’s where they’d been invisible. Soabiel’s slick wing-shaped fins gleamed through the celestial wavelength where most other angels resided, though very few had to babysit like they currently did. 

Their tail lowered, propelling them forwards off a particularly dense area to the celestial equivalent of where Henry now was on the human plane. The colours around them blurred as they sped forwards. Though, less like colours and more intent, emotion carried through much more effectively on this plane. It didn’t feel like it. Most of their siblings showed and felt none while the humans exuded it, pouring unbridled rage, untapped joy. The air was practically saturated with it. What was the point of all that emotion? Where was it going? What was it doing besides making humans more irrational? It would figure that’s why so many angels shirked this crappy mission, leaving them to end up with it.

Soabiel lowered their pectoral fins, seamlessly slipping into their flesh bag; invisible as they were before.

Soabiel could feel the vibrations in their human feet, they jostled their body, made their fingers- only ten, how did humans survive -tingle. They could feel the rumble of the powerful engine pushing the vehicle forwards over every nook, bump, and rock on the road. Soabiel could feel their mouth grin, lips pulling wide to reveal only two rows of teeth bared in a wide smile that no one else could see. 

They stuck their head out the side from the passengers seat, eyes wide as the wind buffered their skin sack’s face. Soabiel’s grin widened and small pockets of air filled the back of their cheeks beside their molars.Their hair was whipping wildly in the wind, the normally short brown strands pulled back by sheer speed.

This was absolutely nothing like flying, but it was amazing! Soabiel stuck out their fleshy pink tongue, feeling it dry against the wind that was making their eyes water. Their white shirt sleeve rippled on their arm and by heaven and hell did humans always feel things so drastically! So many senses constantly experiencing different things at once; it was euphoric. The way they felt in this vessel was freeing. Soabiel may as well have been blind, deaf, and numb in the celestial plane. 

Maybe there was something to this human thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soabiel's vessel is male, but Soabiel themselves are gender-neutral. The human mechanic was Henry Ford, one of the designers of the Ford Model T. This was not an accurate historical recap of what happened. The Ford Model T was going 72km/hr in this which is it's top speed.


End file.
